Fay Risner's Blog, page 15
November 12, 2015
November 11, 2015
Remembering The Veterans In My Family
My mother was the oldest of nine children born in a spot in the road in Vernon County, Missouri called Olive Branch. The area consisted of two churches, a cemetery and a grade school with what is now a ghost town about five miles away called Montevallo. Also, called New Montevallo by the old timers since Old Montevallo was burnt by Union Soldiers to get rid of bushwhackers and Confederate sympathizers. Two of my great grandfathers from the area fought in the Civil War and are buried in the Montevallo cemetery.
When World War two started I wasn’t born yet. Two of my mother’s brothers were drafted and one of her brother in laws after the war started. My grandparents and my mother’s siblings had to be filled anxiety. Young men that hadn’t been very far from home were now in foreign countries in the midst of battles.
One of my uncles joined the army and the other two joined the navy. The uncle in the army was soft spoken, good natured and couldn’t stand the pain one of his loved ones would be in after an accident. He became sick at the sight of someone bleeding, turned pale and it was all he could do not to pass out. No way was he going to be able to carry a gun and shoot human beings even though he was a good shot. What hunter in southern Missouri wasn’t. Game hunting was how they helped put food on the table. So my uncle was assigned to an ambulance detail to pick up the wound and dead soldiers. My uncle was with the ambulances during the Battle Of The Bulge. My uncle that couldn’t stand to see anyone in pain or bleeding was one of the crew that followed the soldiers and pick up the wounded.
My other two uncles joined the Navy and spent their time in the Pacific Ocean watching out for Japanese bombers and Komokosi pilots.
My mother’s family listened to the radio as much as they could for news of the war effort. Until they heard from one of their three loved ones they would worry. My grandmother and mother wrote letters to them often. When my mother got a reply she’d share the letter with her mother, and her mother shared the letters she received. All three men made it back to their family.
The Vietnam war didn’t mean much to me when it first started. I was a teenager going through high school. My younger brother was fifteen months younger than me. He finished high school and went to college. After the third year of college, he was home for the summer. It was June and I was picking strawberries in my mother’s large patch when my brother came out of my parents house and squatted down in the patch with me. He picked strawberries as he told me he had some news for me. He was going to enlist in the army. Right away I was nervous about him doing that during a war. He should go that last year of college first I said. No he could do that when he came back. Why should you go I asked. Because I feel like I should do my part for this country he said.
We saw him off at the airport and it was all we could do to keep from crying. He hadn’t been any farther from home than the rest of us and here he was going to the other side of the world to fight a war that protesters put up fusses about all the time.
My parents owned a gas station on the Lincoln Highway in Iowa. Since the station was in the country they had plenty of farmers coming in for coffee and snacks. They asked for news about John. Mom kept a map on the wall in the kitchen in the station back. She listened to the television and kept track of where the battles were fought, wondering if her son was in harms way.
He wrote often. Mom and I wrote him once a week and sent him cookies and Mom’s homemade candy. He claimed it took so long for him to get the packages that the food was a little stale. He shared it in the barracks with the other men. Didn’t take long for them to see he’d been sent another package. They didn’t care the cookies and candy was stale. They were hungry for anything from home.
He sugar coated over the horrible heat, mosquitoes and monsoon conditions in the swampy timbers and the dangers he faced. We learned about men he’d made friends with and two orphan twin boys that he was kind to. He went on R and R and bought a tape recorder. He sent tapes instead of letters and asked Mom to buy a tape recorder so we could talk to him on tape. That way he could here our voices.
On Halloween 1970, the town marshal came out to my parents station. He had a telegram he had to give them. After that he told others that was the hardest thing he had ever had to do in his life. I regret to inform you that your son has been wounded and is now in the Saigon hospital.
Mom called me to tell me the news. We lived a mile and a half away. Now the wait would begin until we knew his condition. The next day my phone rang. The operator said it was an overseas call. Would I expect the charges? Of course, I would and gladly. My brother had mustered up the energy to phone knowing what we were all going though. He meant to get our parents but in his feverish conditions he dialed the wrong number. No matter. I promised to pass on everything he said. He was going to be shipped to Japan and we weren’t to worry. He had good doctors.
The gook’s M 16 made was an extensive belly wound at close range. My brother was a fighter. He survived the surgeries that patched him back together. When he could be moved he entered into the Great Lakes Navel Hospital in Chicago which was close enough for all of us to go see him. When he was able to be released for weekends, we brought him home. Mom dressed his wounds so he could spend those two days.
My brother had a fever on his last day of duty from malaria. He said he didn’t feel well but was told it was his turn to be lead man and he had to do it. Go ahead of the other soldiers and look for hidden enemies. My brother didn’t expect a Vietcong soldier to be right beside him in the bushes when the man stood up and shot my brother. When my brother fell, the other soldiers returned the enemy fire. The Sargent saw my brother was still alive and crawled under the gun fire to him. He pulled my brother into the bushes for cover and waited for the Medevac Copter to come.
That Sargent is still friends with all of us today and several of the men my brother served with stayed in touch with him for years. The Sargent came to visit when he retired a lifer in the Army. Mom fixed them breakfast in the kitchen behind the station. She’d made homemade jelly and had a few jars on a shelf. One of the jars unsealed and made a loud pop. John and his Sargent jumped as if they had been fired upon. They looked like they were ready to dive under the table.
Those moment became fewer as the years went by. None of us care for Army movies to this day. My brother has lived a productive life with his wife and children. He never wanted to talk about what had happened to him in Vietnam. It was the Sargent that told about saving my brother while they were both under fire.
A few years back, my brother showed me his box of medals. At first glance anyone with experience in these things knows what the medals were for. I know he had two purple hearts, a sharpshooter medal, and several others one of which as a star on it. I asked what he received that medal for. His answer was he was in the right place at the wrong time.
I’ve kept all of my brother’s military letters and some from the men he was in the army that wrote often to find out how he was doing. A man started a website for the unit my brother was in and was asking anyone that want to help by sending information and pictures. My brother asked me if I could transcribe to the man things from those letters he sent me which were a good time line of where he was at with his unit. While I was at it, I found where my brother had entered Cambodia with his unit and had been penned down by enemy fire. He yelled to those around him that they needed to retreat as he opened fire on the enemy and they were able to retreat.
My brother added a picture to his Facebook page of a soldier and himself, remembering their days in the military. I added that I remembered those days well from the home front and I was so glad that that time is a long time in the past for us. Not so true for many families today that have to worry about their loved ones in harm’s way.
November 8, 2015
Books Make Great Gifts
Christmas is coming and winter is upon us soon. We will be wanting to spend more time inside, trying to find something to occupy us on a snowy day or long evenings when the days are shorter.
What better Christmas gifts to get someone you think might have everything than a book or a gift certificate for a download of an ebook of their choice. Books are great gifts for residents at nursing homes, too. I have given away quite a few of my books to residents.
I’ve written some holiday books and thought I might share them with you. You can find them on smashwords.com. Nook and Barnes and Nobel, Amazon and kindle plus other sites you can Google.
It’s funny what triggers thoughts for me that turn into a book. My first Amish book was a Christmas romance story. I bought a box of Christmas cards to send out and studied the picture. It was a couple in a sleigh on a snowy day pulling up in front of a house that didn’t have electricity. The house looked Amish to me. So I’m thinking why would a couple visit an Amish house on Christmas day? That couple turned into one woman out on her own making her way to visit and the story evolved from there.
It was selling that book that made me realize there was a market for Amish books. That’s what spurred me on to write my Nurse Hal Among The Amish series. When I started hearing from reader about Christmas Traditions, they said they wanted another book about Margaret Goodman Yoder so they would know what happened to her. Since I was knee deep in Nurse Hallie Lindstrom Lapp’s story I decided to move Margaret to Iowa. By make her a good friend to Nurse Hal, it helped Nurse Hal adjust to Amish life easier. Margaret and Hallie had a lot in common. I enjoyed hearing the comments when the readers realized Margaret Goodman was living by Nurse Hal. They said it was like getting reacquainted with an old friend. I was glad that I came up with a solution for the readers and Margaret Goodman. So enjoy the first chapter of Christmas Traditions – An Amish Love Story.
Synopsis
Fay Risner brings readers the story of an Amish man and a once Amish woman. Follow the twists and turns in their lives while they make each other miserable. At the same time they try to carry out their Christmas Traditions for the little boy they both love.
Levi Yoder threatens to make this Margaret’s last visit. A visit which proves to be very different from all the others. A terrifying fire sets a girl’s dress on fire during the Amish Christmas school program, and Margaret struggles to save a girl that falls into an icy creek. If that isn’t enough, a Yoder cow nearly kills Margaret. While forced to nurse Margaret back to health, Levi rethinks his buried feelings for this woman he once loved.
Chapter 1
That Monday afternoon, Margaret Goodman’s destination seemed forever away even though the Yoder farm was only seven miles from Brightwell, Pennsylvania. She was traveling alone so she was thankful for the tranquil, winter conditions. If a snowstorm had threatened before she left town, she wouldn’t have been brave enough to make the trip on her own.
Watching the pristine countryside slide by her bright red sleigh helped just a little to soothe her frayed nerves. She slid under the snow laced trees that loomed over the packed road. In the swift breeze, weighed down branches swayed like stick skeletons, dancing a jig which let loose snowy clumps on her. Drifted, white mounds rolled across the pastures, making a colorful contrast with the black and red cattle milling about brown, frazzled hay stacks.
Along the way, the recent snowstorm turned homesteads, set against the dark blue sky, into scenes lovely enough to paint on Christmas cards. The Pennsylvania countryside really was beautiful in the winter. Not that Margaret was in any mood to enjoy what she slid by. In her heart, she knew she couldn’t appreciate anything around her until she managed to live through this coming week and escape back to Brightwell.
The road was invisible, covered with packed snow rutted with sleigh runners and buggy tracks. If it hadn’t been for the rows of snow capped, cedar fence posts on either side of her, she’d have felt like she was on a great adventure, blazing her own trail across the frozen tundra.
She knew all the beauty that surrounded her would have put anyone else in a festive mood for Christmas coming Monday next, but not her. She bounced around somber thoughts about what dreaded incidents could happen from one day to the next in the week ahead of her. When the time came, Margaret planned to muster up the strength to pretend to be joyful. She wouldn’t bother to do that until after she stopped the sleigh in front of the Yoder house. Just thinking about it, her mood turned despairing to say the least. She felt unsettled and anxious. The winter scenery couldn’t change the turmoil that churned inside her. She wasn’t sure anything would. Like bad tasting medicine, she had to accept whatever happened in the next few days and handle each situation the best she could.
The freezing breeze whipped her dark brown, curly hair away from her head, causing a chill to run through her. Margaret felt goose bumps pop up on her legs. She huddled down in the seat, holding the reins in one hand long enough to tug her walnut dyed, wool lap robe up higher. That done, she went back to worrying. She was a day later than usual. Would it matter to any of them at the Yoder farm that she hadn’t arrived on Sunday afternoon? Had any of the Yoders worried about why she hadn’t shown up yet? When she did arrive, would the fact that she was late make Levi Yoder’s opinion of her worse than it already was?
She’d waited until that morning to prepare for the journey. Rushing to gather everything she wanted to take, she packed the sleigh at the last minute in haste. Now way down the road, she had the feeling she might have forgotten something. She did a mental check list. Christmas gifts covered the back seat, a large, wicker basket full of food sat next to her and beside her feet was her clothes stuffed, tan, tapestry valise. She’d hidden Faith’s journal under the sleigh seat out of Levi’s sight until she could give it to his son, Luke. This year that diary was what she had to remember to pack above all other things. If she forgot anything else she’d meant to bring it was certainly too late now. She would have to make due without whatever it was.
She couldn’t help arriving late, and she wasn’t about to offer an explanation. Her private life wasn’t up for discussion. Nothing she said would do any good anyway as far as Levi Yoder was concerned. She just hoped what plans Levi, his father, Jeremiah, and son, Luke, made to celebrate Christmas, for Luke’s sake, didn’t include something she would regret missing.
Unlike the hustle and bustle in town, the quiet countryside embraced peacefulness. The only sounds were made by her red sleigh and the four white stocking hooves on her black horse, Pie Face. The runners crunched, slicing through the ice crusted snow. The sleigh bells jingled in time to the horse’s steamy, labored snorts and rhythmic tromp as he moved at a fast pace.
In the last mile, Margaret whipped the horse to hurry him to race the sinking sun. The words, Please let me get to the farm before dark, played over and over in her head like an out of tune song. Nightfall was one more reason for her to worry over her late start. She told herself she’d feel less anxious when she finally spotted a column of light, gray smoke spiraling up above the Yoder hickory and mulberry grove.
The tree lined lane was just ahead to the right. Margaret pulled back on the reins, bringing Pie Face to a walk. She entered the shaded lane, traveling under the entwined glittery white, soft snow covered branches that made a shaded tunnel.
Half way down the lane, a rabbit darted out of his nest in the drifted snow and zigzagged past the horse. Startled, Pie Face shied sideways. Margaret pulled back on the reins and brought the horse to a stop. She could feel her heart racing. She took a deep, calming breath and flicked the reins over Pie Face’s back. No time to panic now. She was almost to the house.
Margaret tossed away the worry about dark over taking her like so many empty pea pods when she finally came into view of the large, two story, snow capped, farm house, but she still had plenty more worries to take its place. Pulling back on the reins, she stopped the horse by the split rail fence that surrounded the yard.
Luke’s brown and white beagle, Moses, bounced off the porch and down the path. He stood on his hind legs and looked in the sleigh while he woofed a high pitched greeting.
“Hello, Moses. How have you been?” Margaret answered back.
“Woof, woof.” The beagle wagged his tail with such speed that his chubby backend swayed. Bouncing off the sleigh, he took off in a run. He circled the sleigh while he did a sniffing inspection.
“So you’re happy to see me. That’s encouraging.” Margaret said under her breath. She looked up at the house roof. The stone chimney chugged pale gray, smoke plumbs that floated higher and higher into the sky, turning into hard to see thin wisps. A sudden change in the wind brought a down draft drifting toward her that smelled of hickory wood. Someone had recently stoked the fire.
The two story, farm house, with peeling, white paint and sun bleached wood, had a grossdawdi haus built on the east side. The addition was added for Levi’s father, Jeremiah, when Levi married Margaret’s sister, Faith. The outhouse, smokehouse, chicken house, and pig pen were ahead of her. The large, red barn complete with granary and root cellar stood off to the left.
Levi Yoder, tall, muscular and handsome, stalked through the deep snow toward her from the woodpile by the barnyard split rail fence. He carried an armload of lengthy fire wood propped on his shoulder. Even though she fought with herself not to feel hopeful, her heart raced faster at the sight of him. As Levi came closer, his rugged features were just like she imagined in her thoughts and dreams over the last year. A lump formed in her throat as she watched the sinking, fiery sun behind his back create rosy streaks in his straw colored hair where it curled on his coat collar.
As Levi walked close enough for Margaret to get a good look at his face, any growing excitement she felt spiraled backward to dread again. It only took a quick glimpse to make her tense up. Any sparse drop of hope she’d had that Levi would welcome her this time faded as fast as the dimming daylight. Any brief thought that the man might be worried because she was a day late, she could discard like dirty wash water out the back door just from watching his foreboding posture as he marched at her. She tried to hold back the mounting anguish that wanted to creep onto her face. She should have known better than to expect any change in that strong willed man. Nothing about him ever changed. She had to face it. He never would change.
At that moment, his piercing eyes and high boned cheeks above his bushy, blond beard appeared to be chiseled by a stonemason. The scowl on his face, Margaret knew for sure, even if he never said so out loud, had been brought on by her arrival. In all these years, her presence always had the same affect on Levi Yoder. Why did she ever hope that he would change in a year’s time? That man ever changing his opinions on anyone or anything was never going to happen.
The wood Levi carried was too long to go into the cookstove. He must be ready to prepare the fireplace in the meeting room. Would it have hurt him to warm the room up before I arrived, ran through Margaret’s mind. The meeting room was only used on a Sunday once in a blue moon when it was the Yoders turn to have church. Just for her, the room was opened more days in a row the once a year she visited.
However, she’d arrived a day late. Maybe Levi hoped she wouldn’t show up at all. This year of all the years would be the one that he definitely wouldn’t want to face her. He probably hoped she’d changed her mind about going through with her plan concerning the journal. In that case, he might have reasoned that she’d decide to skip her appearance at the Yoder farm this year if the journal had been her initial reason for the visit. There would be no need for him to bother going through the chore of opening up the meeting room that he only did begrudgingly for her. Well, Levi was wrong. It made her blood boil to think, in all the years they had known each other, that man never understood her concern had always been for what was best for Luke. Anything she tried to do to improve the situation between Levi and her wasn’t enough to make him want to try to get along with her.
Quickly, Margaret glanced around to see if Jeremiah or Luke were coming to greet her. She didn’t want to start out this visit with only Levi’s cold, reluctant help and snappish greeting. She’d mentally tried to prepare herself for what could happen at the Yoder farm, but Margaret realized while that fair haired man strode toward her, she needed more time to steel herself for the strife to come. Although in the back of her mind, she already knew she had no real way to prepare for the clashes between Levi and herself. Like always, she’d do her best to stand up to the man and hope her bluff worked. As she watched Levi approach, she felt like prey stalked by a lion. In the next week, it was going to take all the courage and bravo she could muster to keep from being eaten alive by this angry, sullen man.
Levi’s father, Jeremiah, stood in the barn door. His bent back was to her. Locks of gray hair peeked out from under his black, flat crowned, big brimmed hat. With a touch of panic, Margaret wondered where the boy was. She didn’t make the effort to travel this far one time a year in the dead of winter, Levi allowed her, for any other reason than to see Luke. Especially not this time when she had to make the trip from town without her husband, Harry. Particularly this year when this visit was more important than all the other trips. Because if Levi remembered she was bringing the journal to Luke, he’d be against her showing up. She knew he’d fight her every step of the way, and she was determined to come anyway.
“Aunt Margaret, you are here!” The boy shouted from the kitchen doorway. He dropped the empty water pail and the egg bucket in order to wave at her. Making a leap off the porch, Luke ignored the clatter behind him. He was long gone by the time the buckets shot off the porch and pitched noiselessly into the snow piled by the path.
With Moses right behind him, the boy sprinted through the gate hole so fast his wide brimmed hat flew from his head. It landed in the drift at the base of the yard fence. He was so excited he didn’t realize he had lost his hat, but Moses did. He halted long enough to sniff Luke’s hat, before he scampered over to bounce off the sleigh. In his haste, Luke’s mop of yellow hair, the color of corn kernels, flapped away from his ears. He skidded to a halt by the sleigh and jumped up and down.
Excitement gleamed in the boy’s glittering, blue eyes. “Wilkcom! It’s so late in the afternoon, and you didn’t come yesterday. You might not be coming, I feared. Hurry up and get down.”
Margaret put her hand on her chest to slow her thudding heart. It was such a comfort to see this boy, a younger version of Levi. She just had to look into his smiling face to know that he very much wanted her here. Bolstered by his greeting, Margaret teased, “Sorry I’m late, Luke. You need not have worried. I’ve never missed being here for Christmas yet, have I?”
“Not ever, Aunt Margaret,” Luke stated with zeal.
Feeling a little more sure of herself, Margaret laughed at the child’s enthusiasm while she tossed the lap robe aside. She drew her red cape tighter around her shoulders and pulled her trapped, freeze dried tresses out on top of the cape. Gathering up her dark brown, wool skirt in one hand, she held the other hand out to the boy. “Please, Luke, help me down. My legs and feet are so stiff and numb from the cold, I may have trouble walking.”
The frozen snow crunched under the weight of her stinging toes. The tingle in her chilled feet contrasted drastically with the sudden heat that bored into her back from Levi’s eyes. Margaret twisted to look through the steamy vapors rising above the horse’s back. The man watched the exchange between his son and her, but no way could she make out what he was thinking. His face was as blank as a freshly, washed blackboard.
“Hello, Levi.” Her husky voice sounded mechanical to her ears as she looked into the man’s cold as ice, unwavering, blue eyes. She turned back to see Luke’s worried expression. He glanced at his father and back at her. At least in front of the boy, she had to make a stab at being civil to Levi for this precious child’s sake. Besides the week would seem a terminally, long visit if she let Levi get to her at the very beginning of her stay. She smiled down at Luke and patted his head to reassure him.
Levi must have thought the same thing as he watched his son. “Wilcom, Margaret Goodman. Best get inside and warm up,” he said, his tone quietly clipped.
Margaret glanced over her shoulder. If Levi’s short pretense at an invitation hadn’t been remote enough, his face, emotionally frigid as this winter day, told her she was not really welcome in his home but tolerated for his son’s sake.
Margaret concentrated on the boy. That always took away the sting of Levi’s words. She pointed to the wicker basket on the sleigh seat. “Luke, please carry that inside for me. I’m ready to warm up and have a cup of tea right now.” Margaret forced cheerfulness into her voice. “First, let me give you a proper hello. You’ve grown so much. You must be a foot taller than last year.” She drew Luke to her, engulfing him in an enthusiastic, bear hug.
“Only four inches,” corrected the boy.
“All out of tea,” Levi put forth shortly. He looked straight ahead as he marched past Luke and her.
“Figured that. That’s one of the things I brought with me in the basket,” Margaret shot back at Levi’s ramrod, straight back as she trailed after him.
Setting the basket down, Luke picked up his hat. He beat it against his leg to rid it of snow and put it back on. Margaret paused to look back at the western sky while she waited for the boy. The sun had slipped half way below the horizon, creating long, red fingers across the sky.
In the fading daylight, the old man still leaned in the barn door, but he faced the house now. No doubt watching with interest the underlying discord between Levi and her. She could imagine that he might not want to be any closer than the barn during their initial meeting.
“Jeremiah Yoder, come in out of the cold if you have time. Have a cup of tea with me,” she hailed, beckoning to him with a wave of her hand.
Moses stopped his inspection of the sleigh when he heard Margaret’s voice. The dog caught up to her and whined for attention as he sniffed at her skirt. She reached down and patted his head before she turned and trudged with Luke on the snow packed path toward the house.
Behind her, she heard the chickens squawk in alarm. Jeremiah must have scattered the flock as he walked across the barnyard. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to ease away some of the tension that had built up in her all day. She was so very thankful that Jeremiah chose to come when she called. He never liked to take sides between Levi and her. Just the same, Margaret needed that old man to be near her at first as a buffer until she had time to get use to the chilliness that radiated off Levi. It had always helped bolster her spirit to know that Jeremiah liked her to visit almost as much as Luke did. Jeremiah did his best to respect his son’s wishes and Amish law when he was at the Plain people gatherings, but in the privacy of his own home, he wasn’t afraid to show how much he thought of her.
November 3, 2015
October 11, 2015
I’ve always asked the people who buy my books to get back...
I’ve always asked the people who buy my books to get back to me if they have time to let me know what they think of my books. Usually I receive a review, but this time I received a well dissected critique of my latest Nurse Hal Among The Amish book titled Amish Country Arson. I was thrilled and decided to turn the list into a comment and answer session for my blog post.
C. The back cover is hard to read because of the red letters.
A. I agree, and I do design my book covers myself so I only have me to blame. My choice of red letters was to go along with the fire theme. Now that I hold the book in my hands I see I should have picked an easier to read color against the barn raising background.
C.The recipe for Shoo Fly Pie has molasses listed in the directions, but not how much; not listed in the ingredients.
A. Don’t you just hate trying out a new recipe and find it is missing an ingredient. Worse yet molasses happened to be the main ingredient in Shoo Fly Pie. I am really so sorry about that.
C.I hate losing Tom Turkey!!
A. I am sorry about that. Tom Turkey was a particular favorite of this reader, and Tom created much excitement in other stories. He did go out in a blaze of glory so to speak while protecting Nurse Hal from an arsonist that set fire to the Lapp barn.
C. Needed a little more of Stella.
A. Stella Strutt is a thorn in Nurse Hal’s side in every book. In my next book, Second Hand Goods, Stella will be front and center with her Old Order Amish opinions and her repetition of almost everything she says.
C.But I absolutely loved Amish Country Arson and think it was one of the best books in the series yet!
A. It’s always so good to hear that my books have been entertaining. Now I’ve got to strive to make the next one better than this one.
C. And I like the sentences you use. For example – Darkness was good for what was about to happen. And the one about how Hal calls herself a nurse and describes her as the woman with a man’s name.
A. The first sentence was leading up to what was about to happen – an arson fire, and the second sentence was the arsonist’s description of Nurse Hal.
C.I liked how you got inside the mind of the arsonist and told thoughts and made readers understand what was going on in that person’s head.
A. I’m glad my attempt to tell the arsonist’s story by getting inside the person’s head worked. Doing that puts the readers on the spot at the beginning of each fire and seeing the scene through a mentally sick person’s thinking.
C. Homey touch to have Biscuit pee on the back wheel of the buggy or whatever it was.
A. Nurse Hal and the Lapp family live on a farm. I have always lived in the country and had farm animals and pets. I can easily relate to Biscuit, the Lapp dog, marking his territory on buggy wheels just like an English farm dog would pee on a car or pickup tires.
C.I was glad to have Aunt Tootie still be visiting in the story.
A. Aunt Tootie has been described as sort of a plumb off center, but she adds some comical relief to the stories. Up until now Tootie and Hal’s parents have come for visits, but that will change in the next book. You have to read Second Hand Goods to find out about the change.
C.I am glad to have Tom Turkey still do some antics before his death. And I’m glad he died saving Hal rather than having the family decide they needed him for a meal.
C. A. From my personal experiences while living on a working farm, I was brought up to realize that any animal that was edible could be named but when push came to shove that animal would either wind up on the table or sold because farming is a business. My choice to give Tom a pet’s funeral in the Lapp walnut grove, which John Lapp might not have approved if Tom had been found sooner, was made because I knew the readers had grown fond of ornery Tom and would miss him just as much as the Lapp family did. Tom Turkey fans have my sympathy.
C.Interesting mystery to wonder what dug the marigolds.
A..The most natural stories to write are those taken from real life. Since I spent most of this spring and summer wondering what animal was digging in my flower bed in order to sleep under the porch writing about it came easy.
C.Redbird surely was a tiny little girl to like drinking coffee! I wonder what little kids would think of coffee if they tasted it!
A. I had this discussion with my aunts several years ago. My mother wouldn’t let her three children drink coffee. We had to drink milk. That worked until she left my younger brother and me with her mother while she shopped. Grandma loved to spoil her grandchildren. She had large sugar cookies waiting for us and as soon as we were seated at the table, Grandma poured us a cup of coffee which was half full of half and half cream. Tempted though I was, I said, “Mom won’t let us drink coffee.” Grandma said, “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” I gleefully accepted the coffee and liked it. Now I must admit it was years later before I really found out what coffee tasted like.
C.I laughed at Hal’s first impression of Wanda – that she would get along well with Stella for a neighbor.
A. Haven’t at one time or other all of us make assumptions about someone from our first impressions. Stella befriending her neighbor Wanda was just enough to make Hal assume that Wanda would be against her, too. Hal was relieved to find out that she was wrong. Wanda made up her own mind about Nurse Hal.
C.And I laughed at the thought of the bishop coming to see for himself if Gladys was able to come to church. It’s a good thing preachers don’t do that to their congregations – but maybe they should. Perhaps then folks would think twice about missing services.
A. I’m always doing research on Amish customs. Ministers might not check on their congregation members, but bishops do. One worship service might be missed with an illness, but services are two weeks apart. A member should be feeling better by then. Bishops are quick to find out why a member is missing and admonish that person or family as the case may be. I’m thinking there might be some Amish Bishops more lax than others.
C. I’m pleased you remembered to add the skunk to this story. And not just have it dig things and stink, but have Hal think she killed it. You made it an exciting adventure and not just a skunk incident.
A. Hal makes a good nurse because she is so caring and has a tender heart. She loves all animals as well as people. She was mad at the skunk and that anger pushed her to get rid of the animal that tore up her flower beds after she was teased by her stepsons that they wouldn’t kill the skunk for her. She found she just didn’t have the stomach for killing a living thing once she had the skunk captured but she had to go through with it.
C.The order at the sale when they sold everything before they got to the rooster Hal wanted – that reminds me of me. Seems things I’m interested in are always saved for a good while.
A. I agree. We enjoy going to an auction at Kalona, Iowa much like the one I described at Wickenburg. What we want to buy always seem to take a long time to get to.
C.That was funny how Tom Turkey treated the rooster. And it served Tootie right the way the rooster treated her.
A. Tom was territorial. He had become head of the chicken flock, and he wanted to keep it that way. The new rooster Hal bought didn’t stand a chance if the boys hadn’t locked Tom in the barn. As it turned out, the rooster might have stood a fighting chance against the turkey since he had a mean streak. Just Aunt Tootie’s luck when she offered to gather the eggs one afternoon, the rooster showed her his true nature.
C.That was so clever of you to have John ask the bishop to preach a sermon against modern conveniences in order to convence the young people.
A. Amish elders are committed to keeping their young in the Amish faith even though they have to give the youth rumspringa to let them decided on their own to join the Amish church or become English.
C.And Edna Mast – that it was best not to ask her how she was doing unless you wanted to hear a vast list of ailments. We had a lady here years ago who was that very same way. My mom had the general store, and the men would sit on the benches around the pot belly stove. Mrs. Powell would come in, and they’d ask her how she was doing. She’d start in on her ailments, and those men would exit the store – leaving my mom to have to listen to all those physical complaints!
A. I thought Edna Mast would get along with Aunt Tootie. This character was just like my father’s mother. Ask Grandma how she was, and she started with the headache and went to ailments in her feet before she stopped.
C.The barn raising, sorghum making, benefit sale – you really made those come to life. You didn’t just pass over them in generalizations, but you described them down to the smallest details. Made me feel I was attending them.
A. These are the type of events that make up the life of Amish people. What is part of their lives should be included in stories about them. I want the every day life of the Amish to stand out in their story.
C. I had forgotten about Eli Yutzy. So when I got to the mention of him, I thought perhaps he was the arsonist.
A. Exactly why I mentioned Eli Yutzy and pointed suspicion at others. I wanted the arsonist to be a surprise and keep the readers guessing until the end.
C.And I wondered how the arsonist ever managed to keep setting those fires after being badly hurt.
A. There was just a few days between the fires. Finally, determination wasn’t enough. The arsonist’s injuries worsened to the point getting on a horse wasn’t going to happen again.
C. I’m glad you have Hal going to have another baby, because I was going to write you that she needed to have more children since Amish usually have the large families.
A. Yes, Hal is going to have a baby and so is her stepdaughter Emma. But remember that Hal is in her thirties. Her child bearing years are going by fast so she can’t have too many babies. She has finished raising three step children and now a daughter and an adopted daughter so she is mother to five already. Her much needed services in the community makes it hard to balance her nursing and homemaking which is a struggle for her.
C. The one thing I may disagree with is having Noah miss two of the singings as a punishment/discipline for having the radio. Our preacher at the Baptist church we previously attended said withholding church activities from a child/should never be used as discipline or punishment. I guess one reason being those are things they need to be doing.
A. Amish people may agree with that. It was my feeling that the singings the teenagers attend are more to find someone to date and marry than they are to worship. It just happens that the only songs the teenagers sing are hymns, and Sundays are not a work day so the teenage gatherings are held then.
Amish Country Arson can be found in paperback at Amazon, Barnes and Nobel, and Smashwords or through me if you want a signed copy. Ebooks are in Nook, Kindle and at Smashwords.
October 3, 2015
Saying Good Bye To Aunt Jean
This last week I spent several days beside my special Aunt Jean saying goodbye. While planning the funeral, her family put my writing talents to work to construct her a eulogy. Here is what I wrote and read at the gathering.
Jean Osipchack’s Eulogy
October 1, 2015
Jan. 20, 1927, Eula Jean Bright Ospichack was born seventh of eleven children to John and Veder Bright in a two room log cabin in Olive Branch, Mo.
Jean’s parents taught their children to love each other, stay a close knit family and help each other. That teaching showed in Jean’s loving nature and devotion to all her children and grandchildren as well as the rest of her relatives and friends. We’ve heard the saying we eventually will become like our father or mother. Jean was a combination of both parents. From her mother, she received being a hard worker, determination which we’ve referred to as stubbornness when she wasn’t listening, a never give up attitude, the courage to stand up for herself, her nurturing love and gritty strength to endure the difficult moments life handed her. From her father, Jean inherited a great sense of humor, a quiet and calm demeanor. From both of them she received caring and compassion for others.
She learned how to stand up with determination for what she wanted when she tried to keep up with her brothers,Buck and Sam. One day young Jean knew something interesting was a foot when she followed the boys to the barn. They were going to ride the work horses even though Dad didn’t want the horses rode. Riding with the boys would be fun. Jean said she wanted to go with them. Buck and Sam told her to go back to the house, Jean stood her ground. When she’d complained about the boys attitude earlier Dad told her she had the ability to do anything the boys could do. (That advice from John in the 30’s was right on. By WW 2 women were doing any job a man could dp.). Jean threatened, “You help me get on Old Mike, or I’ll tell Mom and get you in trouble.” The boys put Jean on Mike then grabbed the work horses manes and hopped on. They leaned down to duck under the low barn door and raced off, thinking they would leave Jean behind. She knew what they were up to. She kicked Mike in the sides. He trotted out the door, and Jean forgot to duck. Her forehead smacked the barn door. She screamed as she tumbled to the ground. In her words, “It hurt like bloody murder.” Her scream and loud crying made Buck and Sam come back to see how bad she was hurt. Jean figured she was in big trouble for being on the horse and falling off when her mom came running. Mom looked from the boys on the work horses to her crying, little girl with a goose egg on her forehead. She lit into the boys for not minding and letting Jean get hurt. When her brothers got the scolding Jean knew she was off the hook. We’ll always be able to picture Jean’s sweet, friendly smile. From experiences like the horse riding incident, Buck, had a different take on Jean’s smile. “All my sisters have that same smile, but look out. That usually means they are up to something.” I think Jean wasn’t the only sister who got Buck in trouble.
We take our conveniences for granted. Jean appreciated them. She was raised before all the modern conveniences were invented. Before electricity, she did her homework by the dim light of a kerosene lamp at the kitchen table. Her sister, Liddie, bought their mother an Aladdin Lamp that gave a much brighter light. Jean was so excited and thankful to her sister for making their house brighter at night. Imagine how appreciative Jean was when she was able to use a washing machine instead of a scrub board and have a refrigerator instead of a wooden ice box like her mother used for years.
During the depression in 1937, ten year old Jean learned about hard work when her family traveled to Arizona to pick cotton and fruit for a year to earn money. Can you imagine that large family traveling in an old stock hauling truck with a canvas covering over the top of the back, a mattress in the truck bed to sleep on and wooden seats built on the sides and end? This truck had poor brakes and was hard to start, but that didn’t stop the Bright family. Their stories are similar to the Grapes Of Wrath book John Steinbeck wrote. In Arizona, Jean and Bonnie attended school, but on weekends, Jean had to lug the small tote sack her father made her to pick cotton in hot, dusty fields.
If you wanted to see Jean bristle up call her Eula. If she could help it, people didn’t know her first name. When she was young she was teased. Jean asked her mom why she gave her that ugly name. Mom explained she had named the other babies so she decided Jean’s dad should name her. He said Eula was a pretty name so Jean was stuck with it.
Jean often spoke fondly about her grandparents, Flora Belle and Luther Bright. Grandma let Jean spend a few days with her in the summer. Those were lasting memories when Jean was the center of her grandparents attention without the other kids around. She’d help gather eggs and enjoyed Grandma’s praise to Grandpa about what a good helper Jean was. Those words of praise made Jean excel at being a Grandma’s helper and surely encouraged her to want to excel at whatever she did in life. For sure, her grandmother set a good example for Jean to follow with her own grandchildren.
The Bright children made do with hand me down clothes. Jean’s father stopped at a yard sale and bought a pair of, in Jean’s words, ugly high top old woman’s shoes. He couldn’t resist a bargain, and unfortunately the shoes fit Jean. She hated those shoes and argued they were ugly. Dad became upset with her. He said the shoes were like new and perfectly good. She’d wear them to school. Her father meant it so Jean gave in, but she worried she was in for a worse teasing then when the kids called her Eula. To her relief, the other kids didn’t say much. Soon though, Jean figured out how to ditch those ugly shoes without getting into trouble. She and Bonnie asked Mom if they could wear the high heels to school that older sisters Sylvia and Short gave them. Veder said no. Being told no didn’t stop those two determined girls. They had to walk to the highway from their farm to catch the bus. They hid the heels under a bridge on the dirt road. Before the bus came, they slipped off their old shoes and put on the heels. After school, they put the heels back under the bridge. When Jean told the story it tickled her that their mother never knew.
In 1942, fifteen year old Jean went to work at the Keys Jean Factory in Nevada, Mo. sewing blue jeans. When the plant was inspected, the owner was fined for hiring underage girls like Jean. He didn’t want to lose one of his best workers so he promoted her to inspector to check the jeans. The boss had a connection with a factory in New York. A shipment of poorly sewn jeans came the boss couldn’t sell. He asked Jean to go to New York with him to teach the workers how to sew the pockets to fit in the jeans properly. Her family was proud of how this young girl had mastered that job so well in a short time. Imagine that shy teenager contemplating a trip so far away with a man to a big city without her family? She asked her mother if she should turn the Boss down. Mom said go. This is a once in a life time trip. You might not get another chance.” Since it wasn’t proper to travel with a young girl alone, the unmarried boss hired a chaperon. What memories stood out for Jean about that trip? A hot train car with dust billowing through open windows. Breathing dense smoke from cigarettes smoked by the car full of cute soldiers headed for war. By the first evening, it was clear to Jean how the boss became so wealthy. He hadn’t paid for sleeping quarters. In his large suitcase, he carried pillows so they could sleep in their seats. The chaperon and Jean had uneasy nights sleeping with all those young soldiers. By the time they reached New York, the factory had solved their workmanship problem. Just so this wasn’t a wasted trip, the boss took the ladies on a ferry ride to see the Statue of Liberty. Jean felt her boss was odd, but she knew he really was odd after they reached the island. He ran into the grass and flopped down on the ground to stare up at the statue. He attracted more attention from the tourists than the Statue of Liberty. They thought the man was having some sort of fit. Until time to get on the ferry, Jean and her chaperon stayed away from him, embarrassed to be seen with him. Odd though the boss was, he remembered Jean and other loyal workers in his will.
Jean worked for two decades as a Certified Nurse Assistant at the Belle Plaine Nursing home. Her compassion and her special, attentive care of the elderly made life easier for the residents. She loved that job and excelled at it as she had the factory job. She was an excellent role model for other CNAs and inspired me to become a CNA. It wasn’t unusual to joke among coworkers about what we’d be like once we moved into the nursing home. My idea was to put on my call light all the time to bug the aides. One of Jean’s hospice nurses worked on third shift with Jean at one time. She shared with Mary that Jean and her sat at the nurse’s station during the quiet times and had this same conversation. Jean said she knew exactly what she’d do. She’d raise Hell like the residents she took care of did. If I am to continue to emulate my Aunt Jean, clearly I need to rethink my senior citizen days. Worrying the CNAs by continuously turning on my room’s call light sounds too tame now.
I’ve been fortunate to spend most of my life close to Aunt Jean. In the mid nineties, she asked if I’d mind if she reserved our car’s back seat on our vacation. We traveled to Liddie’s in Centerville then to Bonnie in Cabool, Mo. and across the state to Nevada to visit Short and Buck. Those times with her siblings was when I learned so much about the Bright family’s past as they reminisced. As it turned out, her one time reservation lasted for years. After the first trip, we didn’t get a chance to ask Aunt Jean on another vacation. She knew October was our vacation time. Before we’d thought of it, she’d ask, “What day in October are you picking me up?”
After Jean retired, she took up quilting and soon excelled at that as well when she created beautifully appliquéd rose or carnation quilts and baby quilts. She gifted many of her quilts to her children and grandchildren. Quilting was in her DNA. Her grandmother, Flora Belle, quilted many quilts. Her mother, Veder, made more of the practical, simple tacked comforters, and went to quilting bees. When I stopped by to visit, Jean always took me to her sewing room/bedroom to see her latest project. We’d trade patterns, and when she needed some special block, I usually found it on the internet. Jean became so fast at putting the quilts together she had more quilts than she wanted to give away. Her sister, Liddie, offered to sell them for her. That was her incentive to keep sewing.
Jean made an impression on all her children’s friends. They always felt at home in Jean’s house and just like her family their friends considered her special. Her grandchildren have many memories of visits with Grandma. Jean made the best sweet tea in her largest pitcher so the kids could have refills. Her fondness for anything chocolate was well known by all of us. What else was known by her grandchildren? Which cupboard drawer was called The Snack Drawer. One thing she liked to do with the grandchildren was put picture puzzles together which had been a past time from her childhood. To make her grandchildren’s visits last as long as she could, Jean selected the largest and hardest puzzles she had just so it would take a long time to put together. Her grandson, David, said it really set Jean off when she bought a puzzle at a yard sale, and after they finished putting the puzzle together, they found the one piece they looked for for hours was missing.
Jean was so passionate about playing bingo that her brother Jim called her a Gambleholic. She’d played with family on our trips and with friends over the years. She loved to go with her brother, Moe, and his wife, Jo, to Tama’s casino one a week. It was well known in the family that Jean was a very lucky winner. That incentive always made her eager to get to the next game. Moe’s wife, Jo, said as a lucky omen for everyone playing bingo with her, they should sit right next to Jean or at least rub her arm so some of her luck rubbed off.
In the last year and a half, Jean won the hearts of the Belle Plaine nursing home staff. They kept Jean using that warm smile by praising how pretty her hair was fixed or how nice her freshly polished fingernails looked. When Jean needed peace from the busy activities, she became the social butterfly in the bookkeeper, social worker and administrator offices. We appreciate the staff at the Nursing Home who loved Jean and made her feel at home. A few days ago, a hospice nurse mentioned to Mary that Jean always loved and worried about her family. It might not be easy for her to leave them behind to fend for themselves. The family should encourage her to go to Heaven by mentioning all those family members waiting for her that she so lovingly reminisced about over the years. While we sat by her bed, the minutes ticked by, and we weren’t sure we were convincing Jean that it was all right to leave her family. It was granddaughter, Sandy, that came up with the winning idea. “Grandma, we’ve heard about this bingo game in Heaven. Your brothers and sisters are going to be there. You should go show them how a lucky bingo player plays the game.”
I love you lots.
Have a good journey to the family reunion in Heaven Aunt Jean.
